Spartan Lost
by NickKap
Summary: Jorge, better known as SPARTAN-052, has sacrificed himself in order to protect his homeworld, Reach, against the threat of the genocidal Covenant invading his world. But despite his body not being found in the wreckage in the aftermath of a Slipspace bomb detonation, Jorge's story is far from over. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Reach, Epsilon Eridani System**

"Tell 'em to make it count," said Jorge, better known as SPARTAN-052, to SPARTAN-B312, as the towering SPARTAN tossed the newest member of Noble Team out of the Covenant Corvette _Ardent Prayer_ and into the vastness of space. Jorge stepped away from the hangar opening as Noble Six floated back to the surface of Reach below.

Jorge, head hung low, knew what had to be done. The _Ardent Prayer_ was on a refueling course to a Covenant Supercarrier. The Supercarrier, _Long Night of Solace_, was a massive ship that dwarfed every known ship in the United Nations Space Command fleet, and it needed to be destroyed to prevent any more Covenant forces from landing on Reach.

That's where Operation: UPPER CUT came into effect. By using the Slipspace drive of the now-destroyed UNSC frigate _Savannah_ as a make-shift bomb and transporting it to the _Ardent Prayer_, Jorge, Noble Six, and a handful of UNSC Army personnel eliminated all on-board Covenant and set the _Ardent Prayer_ on a course with the _Long Night of Solace_ and wipe out both ships with one blow.

What was old the saying, kill two birds with one stone? Only in this case the birds were two Covenant warships, and the stone was a Shaw-Fujikawa Slipspace Drive turned into a bomb.

However, things hadn't quite gone as planned once the refueling course was set. Not only was the _D77-TC Pelican_ dropship that was used to transport the bomb and – more importantly – the team from the ship was damaged, the remote timer had malfunctioned. Meaning someone would have to stay behind to manually activate the bomb.

So here was Jorge, a colossal SPARTAN-II super soldier and native of Reach, standing on an enemy vessel headed straight for the largest and possibly most dangerous ship in the entire Covenant Navy alone. He had just jettisoned his squad mate of only a few days out the hangar bay, and the soldiers who braved the mission with them lay dead across the lavender-colored floor of the _Ardent Prayer_.

For the first time in his entire life, or at least as far back as he could remember, he was truly alone.

"_At current velocity,_" said Auntie Dot, the team's Artificial Intelligence construct."_Thirty-seconds to immediate impact…_"

"Yeah, yeah," Jorge said, retrieving his helmet and placing it back on. "I'll miss you too, Dot."

Jorge quickly strode over to the Slipspace drive, typed in a series of arming codes, and let his finger hover over the activation button. He took one last look at his surroundings, deeply inhaled, and closed his eyes.

"Az otthoni."

Jorge exhaled, and pressed the button. The last thing Jorge ever saw was a brilliant flash of light… and then nothingness.

…

**Coruscant, Coruscant System**

Amidst the stars surrounding the city-planet known as Coruscant, everything seemed to be normal. The trade-routes were bustling, the Republic capital ships were on their patrols for any signs of hostile forces, and civilian and commercial crafts were moving to-and-from the planet.

For Deep Space Observation officer Ja'lek Calstaris aboard the space station _Harmony_, today was another boring day in the Republic Navy.

As Ja'lek was thinking of a way to get out of his post early for shore leave, the sensors on his screen went off. A large energy reading was coming only a few hundred miles from the orbit of Coruscant. Was it a Confederate sneak attack? Had the Sith returned? Or was it something far more dangerous?

"Sir," the young officer shouted to his superior. "We have an energy spike in Grid Two-Five-Seven."

"Show me," said Commodore Lasik Destan, a much older commanding officer onboard the _Valor_. The young officer pointed to the massive energy spike in the region, and the Commodore's steely gaze remained fixated on it. "When did it come in?"

"Just now, I have no idea what it is."

"Send out a series of probes."

As the younger Calstaris was typing in launch codes for the probes, they saw it. A large portal opened up in the vast emptiness of space surrounding the station, discharged a massive ship, and vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"What in the world is that?"

"I have no idea, son, but I don't like it. Have the probes been sent out?"

"They're out. I'm just waiting on the scans to report back, sir."

The ten seconds it took the scans of the probes to be transmitted back to the Space Station were the most agonizingly slow ten seconds. After the titanic vessel randomly appeared above Republic space, everyone in the observation deck stopped what they were doing and stared. No one knew whether to blow it to smithereens or marvel at it.

The exotic-looking ship was massive, easily out sizing most ships in the Republic Navy. In fact, it didn't even look like the entire ship; both the aft and forward sections looked like they had been violently torn away, and loose pieces of debris were floating aimlessly in space.

_If this was only a piece of something_, thought the young officer. _Imagine how big the rest of the ship was._

A beeping sound from his screen brought Calstaris out of his daze, and his eyes widened with fear. "Sir, the object is on a collision course with Coruscant."

"Where on Coruscant?"

"The Senate… it's heading straight for it."

"Notify the fleet. Tell them to blast it into dust."

As the object continued to drift towards the city-planet, Calstaris rapidly tapped on his keypad to any heavy-duty ships in the area.

"Anything," asked Destan, watching the mass move closer and closer towards the capital of the Galactic Republic.

"Three _Venator_-Class Star Destroyers are en route to neutralize it."

"Good, the sooner the better." The Commodore moved to the main observation window to get the best vantage point to see the destruction.

Three massive _Venator-_Class Star Destroyers – the _Doombringer_, the _Resolve_, and the _Avenger_ – moved into tight formation high above the orbit of Coruscant. The three warships turned starboard, aiming every single high-powered turbocannon and proton torpedo tube on the broken section of what was once a mammoth war vessel.

In an instant, the trio of Star Destroyers opened fire on the damaged craft, blasting it to pieces like rocks through tissue-paper. The blue lasers and proton torpedoes melted through and obliterated the foreign material easy enough that the ships stopped firing after a few moments. Due to the amount of damage it took from the weapons, combined with the laws of physics, the ship was tearing itself apart at the seams.

The men aboard the _Harmony_ cheered as the ship silently detonated in the cold vacuum of space, while the normally stoic Commodore let out a big exhale.

"Ensign, call in a clean-up crew. The Navy's going to want this sector cleaned on the double."

"Right away, sir," replied the Ensign.

As whatever was left of _Long Night of Solace_ broke up and disintegrated in the Coruscant atmosphere, a tiny ship continued its descent towards a vastly populated area of the planet below.

And the _Ardent Prayer_ wasn't just carrying dead bodies from a battle in a far away galaxy.

The scene around the wreckage was something else. Fire-fighting droids were busy extinguishing the flames of not only the crashed starship, but the surrounding area as well. The sleek, bulbous ship made one hell of an impact in a bustling sector amid the Senatorial District. What was once a part of the galactic center of politics and democracy was now a hellish landscape, with fires raging everywhere and debris as far as the eye could see.

While the droids were busy fighting the fires outside, inside teams of rescue Clones were busy

"Damn shame to lose so many men in a crash," asked a lowly private. "What the heck do you think this thing was?"

"I don't know, probably some mew prototype ship or something," replied an annoyed sergeant. "Keep shining the light or I'll rip your arms off and shine the light myself."

The two Clones continued to bicker as they explored the ship. The doors of the hallway, somehow still in operation, made a humming sound and silently slid open, revealing a spacious section of the ship they had not expected to see.

"Geez, what's with the purple?"

"I know, right? I guess gray wasn't in anymore."

"Hey, look at that," said the private, pointing the light at a massive figure lying next to a destroyed vehicle. "What is that?"

The stale figure was cloaked in a battle-scarred armor system of varying colors. Aside from the gold visor on its helmet and the massive backpack, the most notable thing about the figure was the red shoulder caldron.

"Looks like some kind of new droid. I sure haven't seen it before."

"You think this was a droid ship? I mean, it would make sense; new designs, stuff we haven't seen before, _this_ thing…"

"Damn, would've loved to fight it. Shame the fly-boys blew it out of the sky before we got a crack at it."

The a sergeant leaned in closer, and brushed away a couple of lose wires to read the series of numbers on the piece of armor seemingly bolted to the shoulder.

"Zero-Five-Two? Since when did the CIS label their droids?" The sergeant nudged the figure with his boot, before turning back to his fellow Clone. "Alright, let's call it in." He put a finger to his COMM-piece located within his helmet and began communication with Headquarters. "Recovery Unit Six to Home Base. Come in Home Base, over?"

As the lead Clone continued to radio back to the base, the armor-clad figure started to stir. The private noticed this, but he couldn't get the attention of his comrade. The massive figure, now fully awake and moving, made a loud groan and picked itself off the lavender floor. It towered over the two Clones.

"Uh… sir?"

"Not now, I've got command."

"Sir…"

"I said not now, private!"

"Sir!"

"What? What do you want?"

The private pointed at the titanic figure behind him, and the sergeant slowly turned around until he was face-to-face with the beast. Rather, until the sergeant was waist-to-face.

"It's still up," shouted the private, bringing his DC-15S blaster carbine to bear.

"Take it down," ordered the sergeant, aiming his own blaster at the hulking droid. "Take it down!"

…

A lot of questions were on Jorge's mind; where was he, how did he get here, how did he survive the bomb, and why there were two white-armored figures no taller than the average Marine aiming weapons at him. He was about to ask the two soldiers these questions when he heard the tell-tale whine of a plasma weapon.

Years of training and instincts kicked in and told him he better move before finding out how powerful those weapons were. When he saw the soldiers' fingers on the trigger, he knew right away this was a hostile environment, and he had to act.

In an instant, the SPARTAN exploded to his left just as the soldiers fired their blasters and left plasma burns in the surface of the Covenant ship. The troopers wildly fired after him, hitting everything but the SPARTAN. Despite his massive size, and the extra weight of his MJOLNIR armor, he was as quick as lightning and was out of the hangar bay before the Clone troopers knew it.

"What the hell was that thing, sir?"

"Hell if I know." The sergeant radioed in Headquarters. "Home Base, Home Base, this is Recovery Unit Six! We have a rouge droid that escaped the hangar bay of the spacecraft. It is unarmed, but is incredibly large and quick, and should be considered very dangerous. I repeat, _very_ dangerous!"

…

After escaping the two white-armored soldiers back in the hangar, Jorge found himself sprinting through the corridors simply looking for a way out. He didn't know how many more of those mysterious soldiers were in the ship, nor did he know what other kinds of threats were here. Hell, some of the Covenant could've survived the bomb.

One thing he did know, though, was that he needed to get off this junk heap. And fast.

After running for what felt like an eternity inside the labyrinth of hallways inside the now-damaged Corvette, Jorge finally found an exit – a nearby section of the wall ripped clean off. Jorge muscled his way through the hole and into the sunlight.

What he saw next stunned him into motionlessness and awe.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Forgot to do one of these last time, so I might as well add it here.**

**So yeah, after a day or so of reading a bunch of fanfictions, I figured why not take a crack at it? I enjoy writing, I'm a big fan of Star Wars and Halo, so why not combine them?**

**If you have any kind of opinion of this, be it positive or negative, please make your opinion known in the reviews.**

**If you also have any ideas for future chapters, feel free to send me a PM and we can (stop) collaborate (and listen).**

**EDIT: Yeah, I saw there were some things I didn't like, and that there were some sentences that weren't finished (I hate when I do that). So I removed the original post and made updated it with the changes**

**Disclamer: I own none of these characters, but all original content is mine.**

* * *

**Senate District, Coruscant**

Jorge couldn't help but stare, mouth agape, at what he was currently witnessing. Magnificent spires of metal and glass rose high into the pristine blue sky like overgrown blades of grass, rivaling the cities of New Alexandria and New Mombasa in terms of awe-inspiring and magnificence. He was so focused on the beauty of the towering buildings that he hadn't noticed the hundred of flying vehicles weaving their way around the city.

There were at least a few hundred of them, all honking and rushing to get where they needed to go, flying in formations the SPARTAN had never thought were imaginable. He couldn't see any signs of propellers or VTOL-thrusters; could it be anti-gravity tech? He remembered discussions between scientists and Navy brass about reverse-engineering the anti-gravitational fields used by Covenant ships being years, maybe decades, away from being a reality. But here, not only were they real, they were common and used on civilian ships.

"Istenem," he whispered

The hustle and bustle of the world above him reminded the SPARTAN of the cities from a time well before his, when humanity had yet to break free from Earth and spread themselves amongst the stars. It was a sight to behold, and he wished his team, or at least the Marines he travelled with, could be here to see it with him.

_Damn_, w_hy'd I have to bring them up?_

Truth be told, Jorge wasn't even sure the plan worked. Sure, the bomb detonated and blew apart the _Long Night of Solace_, along with sending him and the crashed remains of the _Ardent Prayer_ to wherever he was now. But did that mean the Covenant's invasion of Reach had ended? Would more ships come when they heard of the failures of the initial assault? Even though his home was one of the most well-defended planets in what remained of UNSC space, could even they withstand the might of a Covenant armada bearing down on them?

The sounds of approaching sirens brought him out of his funk, as he began stepping towards the dome-shaped building in front of him. He only moved two steps before being swarmed by dozens of white-armored soldiers similar to the ones he encountered inside the _Ardent Prayer_, right down to the small, black weapons each soldier was carrying. Unlike those soldiers, however, they had patches of red painted onto portions of their armor.

Jorge then heard a _warbling_ sound coming in from behind him. Before he could turn around, he felt three crafts rush by him and quickly turn. Like the flying ships he could see from the distance, these crafts also have anti-grav capabilities. They were very interesting to look at; they bobbed in the air as if there were invisible strings attached to them. Their chubby bodies were held aloft by two long wings, with the cockpit resting at the very front of the craft. The middle craft's side-doors opened, and thirty more armor-clad soldiers rappelled down, joined their comrades on the ground, and raised their weapons at the SPARTAN.

Their elegance, however, was only matched by its armament. He could see right away that all three ships had two front-facing cannons, while another two batteries were placed just behind the front cannons. These batteries, though, appeared to be manned, as he could see one soldier in each battery behind a set of controls. On the tops of each wing were missile launchers, while another launcher was placed on the underside of the wings. These ships were a marvel of military and technological engineering.

And all of this was aimed at him.

"_This is the Coruscant Guard,_" said a voice from the hovering gunship said. "_Stand down immediately, or you will be fired upon!_"

They spoke English? Maybe he wasn't as far from home as he thought. But he had never heard of a _Coruscant_ before. Was this the name of the planet he was on? Or was it the name of this police force? Never before had Jorge had so many questions pop up in such a small period of time.

"Excuse me," Jorge said, taking a few steps forward. "Who is in command here?"

"_Do not move, or you will be fired upon! This is your final warning!_"

"I just want to know who's in charge, and where the hell I am!" Jorge took another step, holding his arms in the air as a form of surrender. Some of the soldiers on the ground started to back away, probably in fear of something this large and dangerous looking moving towards them.

"_All units, open fire! Take it down!_"

Jorge knew he should have stayed where he was, so why did he continue to move forward? It was a foolish mistake on his part, because he was more than willing to surrender if it meant getting some answers. Now that they were about to open fire? No, the time for surrender was over.

As the first trooper fired his weapon, Jorge broke into a sprint. With his adrenaline pumping at full capacity, combined with the physical augmentations he received for the SPARTAN Program and the technical augmentations courtesy of the combined MJOLNIR Mark-IV/Mark-V upgrades, the world around the SPARTAN slowed to a crawl. This effect was known to every II and III as _Spartan Time_.

The only thing that wasn't moving slowly was Jorge, and he used it to full advantage.

Before the first blue streak of concentrated plasma struck the ground, Jorge was already halfway between his original position and the mass of soldiers in front of him. He wasn't as fast as Kelly-087, the fastest recorded SPARTAN in the Program's history, but he was fast enough to evade their shots.

He expertly weaved his way around the plasma bolts from the soldier's blasters, but it wasn't those guns he was worried about. The beams of green energy from the soldier-mounted batteries of the lead ship burst from the cannons with an impressive display of power, leaving deep burn imprints in the ground they impacted.

As the lead ship was making the turn to track the SPARTAN, the other two ships opened fire with their front-facing cannons. Emerald-green bolts of energy erupted from the cannons and made a bee-line for where Jorge was running. The bolts made large, smoldering craters in the concrete floor, with Jorge feeling the vibrations through his suit. He definitely didn't want to be on the receiving end of those blasts.

He was closing in on the big metallic door behind the group of firing troops, and many of them leapt out of the way to prevent themselves from being run over. The braver ones, however, stood their ground and paid the price. Jorge swore he heard bones crunching when he ran over and through the several troopers who stood in his way.

Energy bolts continued to race past him and impact the surrounding environment as Jorge sprinted for the large doors leading to the larger, dome-shaped building. Knowing a collision with the incredibly resilient metal door at full speed was certain, Jorge lowered his lead shoulder to break through the heavy and resilient door.

Making sure to close the door behind him under a hail of blaster-fire, Jorge checked the motion tracker of his Heads-Up-Display. He saw no one with a blaster inside, and while everyone was staring at him, no one was looking to engage in combat. He finally took a moment to breathe and take in his surroundings.

He was in a very spacious atrium with statues lining the walls. Obviously these figures were of great importance, be it political or militaristic, enough that they be awarded with statues of their honor. Also along the long hallway were rows of ornate doors, each one leading to a room that the SPARTAN couldn't see into, even with his enhanced sight.

As the adrenaline rush finally subsided, Jorge noticed a rapid, shrill beeping noise. He looked over to the top-left of his HUD at his shield indicator, and saw that it was just below 50%. Those energy blasts acted a lot like plasma rounds from the Type-25 Directed Energy Rifles the split-chins used, Jorge thought, only more concentrated and slightly more powerful. He had to avoid a prolonged firefight with these mysteriously white-clad soldiers if he wanted to survive.

He continued to scan for a way out when he heard a groaning noise coming from behind him. The half-ton war-machine quickly turned around and found the source of the groaning… it was a woman.

A_ human_ woman.

She was young, possibly in her early twenties or early thirties. She had medium-length brown hair, and very big brown eyes. Her skin was a pale white, but her face was still radiant. Her eyes were fluttering rapidly, trying to hold back the tears from the pain she was suffering.

She was holding her right forearm very closely, and was in a great deal of pain.

Jorge looked around for any signs of the hostile forces, and satisfied there were none, he bent down next to the woman and retrieved the med kit from his backpack. While he wasn't an official medic, all SPARTANs were given basic first aid training during throughout the SPARTAN Program's training on Reach.

He went for the injured forearm for a closer inspection, but the woman brought it closer towards her. She also drew her face away from his, possibly out of fear. And who could blame her? If you were hurt, and the hulking figure possibly responsible for it was reaching for your wound, who wouldn't cower in fear.

"It's going to be OK," he whispered, gently placing one of his hands on her shoulder. "I can help."

The woman, holding back tears, removed her hand from the wound, and it wasn't pretty. A piece of bone had pierced the skin, causing a rather large amount of blood to pool on the atrium floor. If her wound wasn't treated soon, she would go into shock and possibly fall unconscious.

Jorge quickly reached into the med kit and pulled out a canister of Biofoam. Inside the cylindrical tube with a retractable exhaust tube was a self-sealing, self-filling coagulant/anti-bacterial/tissue-regenerative polymer that stops bleeding and hemorrhaging in critical wounds. When the two chemicals inside the canister combined, the mixture results in a mixed-cell material, which hardens around the wound to form a protective casing.

First, however, he would have to reset the bone. And that would be excruciatingly painful.

"This is going to hurt," he warned the woman, placing his hand above her exposed ulna bone. "On three. Ready?"

It felt like the woman was looking past his visor, straight into the SPARTAN's eyes. The pace of her breathing slowed, and she quickly nodded her head.

_Good_, _at least she trusts me this much_.

"One…" Jorge wrapped his hand around the forearm, with his thumb hovering just over the bone. "Two…" The woman closed her eyes and looked away. "Three!"

Using his thumb, the SPARTAN re-inserted the woman's broken bone back into her skin without pulverizing the rest of her arm. She let out a loud cry of pain as the process ended, and looked away from her forearm. Jorge quickly extended the release nozzle for the Biofoam, inserted it into the exposed area, and squeezed the trigger.

She sharply inhaled as the coagulant foam expanded inside her arm and hardened around the wound. Jorge knew exactly how she was feeling right now; the feeling of Biofoam being poured into a wounded area felt like a dozen fire ants crawling around your insides all at once. Once the numbing agent kicked in, though, she finally let go of her forearm and slumped back against the wall. He also applied the foam to a series of small cuts on her forehead, just for good measure.

The foam wouldn't last, though, as it was only designed as a temporary means of first aid. She would have to get to a medical facility if she wanted the wound to be properly treated.

As Jorge began wrapping her wound and setting the splint, he heard a series of loud bangs coming from the outside. "He's in the Senate Building! Send a few teams in and smoke him out!"

Jorge quickly wrapped the splint in place, re-packed everything into his backpack, and helped the tiny woman into an upright position along the wall.

"There he is," shouted a red-and-white armored soldier to a pair more. "Don't let him hurt the Senator!"

Time to go. Jorge rapidly put his backpack on, and looked for a way out. He scanned the atrium, and saw an open conference door. There had to be another exit behind that door.

Before he left, he quickly turned back to the women propped up against the wall.

"Én hihtetlenül sanjnálom."

In a dead sprint, Jorge evaded the fire from the soldiers and burst through the wooden door in front of him. The room was empty this time, and no one had collapsed behind the door either. He scanned the room and found… nothing. Just a conference room with one large window, a circular table in the middle, and a holographic projection of the planet he was on.

Jorge looked out the window to see how far a drop it would be, when the three gunships roared past the window and brought themselves into a hovering position just outside. A bright light was shone onto Jorge, causing him to depolarize his visor to compensate.

He turned back to try and make his way through the door to find another exit, but it was blocked off by a half-dozen of the plastic-armored soldiers. Two of them broke from the group and came charging at Jorge, guns blazing. With the plasma bolts draining Jorge's shields with every hit he took, it was time for the SPARTAN to go on the offensive. He thought about using his sidearm, the M6G Personal Defense Weapon System, but decided against it. He didn't know what kind of protection their armor had, and he never had enough ammunition for it.

_Time for a little hand-to-hand combat_.

Jorge used his right arm to swipe the lead trooper's legs out from under him, which caused him to hang in the air for a few seconds. Jorge brought the trooper back to the ground with a hard elbow to the midsection, and the trooper hit the floor with a resounding _thud_. The solider crumpled on the ground and remained motionless.

The second trooper continued to fire at the SPARTAN, so Jorge violently ripped the weapon from the soldier and threw it against the wall. Jorge heard the snapping of bones as he disarmed the trooper, and followed it up with a hard punch to the chest, leaving the deep imprint in the chest piece and sending the white-and-red soldier flying into the wall. It landed with a heap, and was down for the count.

Before more troopers could pour into the room challenge the SPARTAN, they parted. Were they letting him go? Or was this some kind of trap?

It turned out to be neither, as a woman entered the doorway. She didn't look to be older than a teenager, but that wasn't what was strange about her.

Jorge has been in the UNSC for most of his life, and had been in active duty since the SPARTAN-IIs were used during the Insurrection period in the mid 2520s. He had been deployed on so many worlds, on so many ops, against so many enemies, he couldn't remember the last time he saw something quiet as unbelievable as what was glaring at him right now.

For starters, the humanoid creature had orange skin with white markings across her face. It was as if a child had colored a person in a drawing book with an orange crayon and missed a couple of spots around the face. Stranger still were the white-and-blue protrusions from the top of her head. Jorge couldn't tell if they were either tales or tentacles.

She was staring right into Jorge's soul, and readied herself in a fighting position. She stretched her arm out and, as if it were pulled magnetically, a sleek, metallic cylinder left her belt and was firmly held in the alien's hand.

Out of the cylinder sprang a meter-long emerald green blade that appeared to be made almost completely out of light with a _swish_. It wasn't as elegant looking as the energy swords the Elite's carried, but it looked just as deadly. The SPARTAN could hear the energy blade humming from the opposite side of the table that separated himself and the soldiers and warrior.

The orange energy-sword wielder leapt onto the table and pointed the tip of the blade at Jorge, signaling a challenge. With a devious smile, launched herself at Jorge with the blade reared back, ready to strike.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: We've passed the 1000 view mark, so let's celebrate this momentous occasion with the posting of Chapter 3. A big thanks to **_Kelana-ti _**and **_gh0st3_ **for giving me suggestions for this chapter and just chatting Halo and Star Wars. Also, credit goes to **RashestRumble16** for pointing out an inconsistency in the previous chapter. Don't worry, it's been corrected, so thanks for pointing it out.**

**Once again, whether you like or dislike where you think this story is, please let me know in the reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and settings created by Bungie Studios and Lucasfilm, but all original content is mine.**

* * *

**Senate Building Conference Room, Coruscant**

Underneath their matching white-and-red plastoid helmets, CT-5277, aka Bardo, was grinning. Bardo and his comrades in the Coruscant Guard, a specialized branch of the Coruscant Police Department who's main objective was the protection of important Republic buildings and personnel, had watched as this green-and-red armored monstrosity evade everything the Low Altitude Assault Transport ships could throw at it, along with the barricade set up in front of the Senate Building. They saw it withstand a full clip from DC-15A and DC-15S blasters, and keep on coming. They watched as it made quick work out of Bones, CT-1867, and Sixer, CT-9166, in front of their own eyes with little effort.

But now, this thing was going to meet its end. Even though she was only a Padawan, Ahsoka Tano was one of the most talented and aggressive Jedi apprentices in the Order. She was fearless, reckless, and a selfless leader… a spitting image of her Jedi Master, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, in Bardo's opinion.

Watching her slice through this metallic beast was going to be a sight to see. So much of a sight that every Coruscant Guard on station inside the Senate found a way to watch the ensuing duel.

Tano, separated from the intruder by the holo-table at the very center of the room, leapt onto the table with such grace and agility, and pointed her green lightsaber at the hulking figure. While Bardo would never be able to wield one into battle, that didn't mean he never admired the elegant blade. A lightsaber, long the weapon of the Jedi Order, signified an air of nobility and power in the mind of the clone.

While he only knew of the Jedi as Generals and combatants, he had read of stories where the Jedi were more galactic mediators and pacifiers than warriors. He had seen holo-vids of Jedi cutting clean through a row of Separatist Armored Assault Tanks without breaking a sweat, while another showed swaths of droid troopers fall before the great Jedi Master Mace Windu.

"Assassin," said Ahsoka. "Identify yourself, and surrender so you can face justice for your actions."

The statuesque figure cocked its head to the side and stepped forward slightly. "I'm no assassin! And what do I have to surrender for?"

Everyone in the room was taken aback by the figure's sudden ability to speak. And speak Basic, no less.

"Definitely not a droid," mumbled Bardo to CT-1188, Jet.

"So you speak Basic? Then you'll understand that you're under arrest for crimes against the Republic."

"I haven't done anything wrong," the armored figure shouted in gruff defiance. "If anything, those men standing behind you are the criminals. They started the shooting, and any injuries I caused were in self-defense." As the hulking stranger stood tall, Bardo felt a swell of anger rising inside him. _The clones are the criminals?! Like hell we are._

Padawan Tano seemed angry, too. Bardo couldn't be sure, seeing as he was standing behind the Togrutian, but what little of her face that he saw looked like she had a deep scowl, and he also noticed her grip tighten around her lightsaber. When she spoke, it sounded very close to a growl. "Those men are clone troopers, protectors of the Republic and everything it stands for. I'll ask you one last time, assassin. Stand down or I'll have to use extreme force."

"For the last bloody time, I am not an assassin!" The stranger took a fighting stance, fists raised. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Then so be it." Tano reared her saber back, readying herself for a powerful first strike, and propelled herself at the hulking figure at full speed.

* * *

_Assassin? Basic? Clones?_ Just another trio of questions for Jorge to add to his growing list of queries he would have to ask to whoever was in charge.

Jorge saw the orange warrior coming straight towards him, energy blade reared back like a baton ready to strike at his head. He waited until the very last moment, when the warrior was only an arm's length away, to dodge the attack. As he rolled to his left, he saw the bright-green blade cross just a few inches from his face-plate. The amount of heat generated was enormous; Jorge heard the shrill shrieking of the temperature warnings throughout the helmet.

Jorge barely had time to return to his feet before having to dodge another attack from the teenager sword-wielder. And another, and then another. Three quick strikes and Jorge was barely able to dodge either of them. His SPARTAN augmentations and MJOLNIR armor amplified his senses and reflexes to levels well beyond that of a normal human being, and they were being put to the test by this… _teenager_. She looked nimble before the confrontation, but this was bordering on Bugger-level agility.

Jorge had to start taking the offensive in this fight, and he knew it.

Jorge started using his own speed to throw punch after punch, swipe after swipe at his opponent, each hitting nothing but air. Jorge thought he had her cornered, and put everything he had into a haymaker right for her midsection, but to his surprise the orange warrior launched herself into a front-flip over the eight foot tall SPARTAN. Jorge's powerful hook hit nothing but the wall, sending a big piece of the it crashing to the floor.

Jorge silently wished he had a knife or something else to use as a weapon; he was well-trained in hand-to-hand combat, but he was a heavy-weapons specialist first. He was totally out of his element, whereas this kind of combat appeared to be her specialty.

He dove and rolled towards the table, and gripped one of the metallic chairs circling the table. It was a part of the floor itself, but Jorge used his massive strength to rip the chair and a chunk of the floor and threw it at her with all his strength.

The chair flew across the room, and was about to impact the woman when she slashed her weapon with a swift, diagonal strike. The chair was cut clean through in a straight line, and both halves flew past her and crashed to the floor. He threw two more chairs, but they too were cleaved in half.

She was far more nimble than he ever wished he could be, so he had to change his tactics to even the odds and give himself a better chance of coming out of this alive.

The warrior leapt high in the air again, close to twenty feet, and as she descended brought the sword over her head for a two-handed strike. Jorge waited for the perfect moment, until he was within arm's reach of her, when he grabbed both her wrists and slammed her into the table. It left a deep indent in the table, but Jorge wasn't finished.

He brought his left hand down in a hammer strike, but the orange stranger moved her head to the right at lightning speeds, leaving Jorge to connect with nothing but the table. He brought it down again, but the result was the same.

The orange female stuck her tongue out at Jorge as an insult, and this only made the SPARTAN mad. Before he could act, though, she used Jorge's momentary lapse of concentration to break free of his grip and propel herself away from Jorge. The strangest thing was that Jorge could've sworn he didn't see her come close to touching him. It was as if some unseen force had broken them apart.

The sword-wielder tried front-flipping over Jorge again, but he was ready this time. Jorge grabbed her by the throat, slammed her into the table again, and tossed her into the assortment of guards at the entrance to the room. As they collided and collapsed in a heap, Jorge grabbed the pistol magnetically attached to his right thigh, readied it, and aimed it at the group.

The orange warrior, after picking herself and some of the soldiers up, turned back to Jorge. She grabbed another of the silver cylinders from her belt, pressed a button, and a yellow-green blade erupted from it. She twirled both blades in her hands, and brought them to a readied position. The troopers behind and beside her also raised their weapons at a ready position, and he heard the whine of their weapons activating.

Jorge sighed, and flipped off the M6G's safety. _Then so be it._

* * *

With the arm raised his pistol, and was about to fire when a booming voice resounded through the room. "Lower your weapons!" The troopers lowered their weapons in unison, while the orange warrior deactivated both energy weapons. The stranger, however, kept its weapon raised and finger on the trigger.

"Master Plo Koon," said Ahsoka, bowing her head. "How is the clean up going outside the Senate?"

"Do not try and divert from the situation at hand, young Padawan. I want you to bring me up to speed on everything that has happened."

Ahsoka pointed to Jorge. "Well, after evading arrest from the Guardsmen outside, this… thing broke into the Senate Building, seriously wounded Senator Amidala, and fled into here. I did my best to–"

Koon raised his hand, signaling Ahsoka to stop. "Very good, I've heard all that is necessary. I want you to assist in the transport of the Senator to a medical facility. You are then to report back to the Jedi Temple for debriefing."

"Very well, Master." Ahsoka bowed, and quickly exited the room, leaving only the Coruscant Guard, the Kel Dor Jedi Master, and the hulking figure to sort this out.

* * *

If Jorge thought the orange creature he had fought before was strange looking, this new alien that just entered the room made her look normal.

It was very tall – taller than an average Marine – and very well built, and its skin was fair-colored, but that was where the similarities ended. Jorge couldn't think of a comparison of its face, which looked like there was extra skin hanging on it, but the top of its head was much tighter. The ears – if you could call them ears – looked like someone sliced up a portion of someone's intestines and stuck them to the side of its head. This creature had metallic goggles where its eyes should've been, and it wore a metallic faceguard that resembled oxygen masks worn by fighter pilots.

The tall creature commanded the immediate respect of those in the room, but Jorge was still wary; the last time he saw an alien that wasn't Covenant, it drew their blade in a challenge.

"My name is Master Plo Koon, of the Jedi High Council. It seems that you have caused a lot of trouble in your short time on this world." The Jedi Master slowly started walking towards Jorge, hands behind its back in a professional manner.

"That's where we disagree. I was just looking for answers, and they opened fire." Jorge motioned to the group of soldiers standing behind Koon.

"The clones? They were just doing their jobs. Perhaps if you were more willing to cooperate with them, no bloodshed would have been required."

"I just to want to know where I am. No one's been willing to answer me that."

"Why, you're on Coruscant. The capital of the Galactic Republic, and the center of all that is just in the Galaxy."

"I've never heard of Coruscant before." Jorge shifted uneasily on his feet, pistol still aimed at the calm Jedi.

"And I've never seen armor such as your before. What pirate clan do you represent? Or perhaps you are a bounty hunter?"

"That's classified information."

"Well if you cannot answer me that, stranger, then can you at least tell me where you are from?"

It was an honest question that, under normal circumstances, Jorge would've been more than happy to answer. Despite the secretive nature of the SPARTAN Program, Jorge was always a talker. Whether among his fellow SPARTANS, with the other enlisted men and women of the UNSC armed forces, or even with frightened civilians who needed someone to comfort them, he was always willing to strike up a conversation. So why was he unable to answer such an easy question?

The Jedi moved closer to Jorge, forcing him to point his sidearm at its head. Koon held up his arms and stopped dead in his tracks. "Please, there is no need for any more violence today."

"How can I trust you? The last person who tried to make me surrender tried to lop my head off."

"Fair enough, I will not force you to come with us. I will, however, present you with two choices. Either you surrender yourself willingly, and we can answer whatever questions you may have. Or, you can strike me down, and face the full military might of the Galactic Republic. The choice is yours, and I sincerely hope you make the right one."

Jorge thought about it. He had the proper training where he could survive on his own, alone, for an extended period of time. And if this Galactic Republic military was anything like the guardsmen here, then it would be easy. On the other hand, he was tired of killing for a day. He went from one world where all he knew was war to this place. Maybe this was his chance to experience peace.

Jorge reluctantly flipped the safety of his pistol on, handed the weapon to the man in front of him, and followed Master Koon out of the room. Bardo pulled out a pair of restraints to fit on Jorge, but the Jedi Master waved them away.

The scene outside the Senate Building was livelier than before, if that even possible. A swarm of civilians, both human and non-human, had gathered outside the building to get a look at what had happened. Floating camera-like devices circled the SPARTAN and Jedi Master as they entered the Low Altitude Assault Transport.

As the gunship soared away from the grand Senate Building, Jorge looked over to his right and was awe-struck at the scale of the city. This city, far more vast and expansive than any city he had ever seen, seemed to continue forever. Seeing the city from this view, with its hundreds of speeding vehicles and thousands of citizens, made Jorge feel incredibly small.

The SPARTAN was still trying to process everything that had happened since the crash of the _Ardent Prayer_. Crashing on an uncharted, yet highly advanced world where plasma was used in weaponry and civilian crafts used hover and flying technology.

Answers waited, however, and it wasn't going to do any good to think of them up here. Jorge let his head hit the back of the transport as he headed for wherever this clone pilot and this "Jedi" were taking him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. Once again, read and review. The more reviews I get, the more I know what I'm doing right and what needs to be improved upon.**

**Chapter 3 got this story 577 views in one day, lets see if we can top that.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and settings created by Bungie Studios/343 Industries and Lucasfilms, only the characters I create.**

* * *

**Coruscant Guard Headquarters, Coruscant**

Jorge's vision was blurred, his senses were fried, and he was exhausted. He hadn't seen the outside world, this _Coruscant_, and all the sights he had seen from inside the dropship for so long he lost track of time.

The man in charge – a one-eyed, silver-streaked Captain by the name of Rookers – had been torturing Jorge non-stop since he surrendered himself. He had answered everything they asked to the best of his abilities, but for whatever reason they wouldn't buy a word he said. They kept calling him names like traitor, spy, assassin, and even something called a "Separatist pawn."

After constant back and forth, which produced no results in the SPARTAN's favor, Jorge stopped talking. He figured he was going to be tortured regardless of what he said, so there was no point in wasting his breath.

Jorge had been trained in the arts of torture during his time as a SPARTAN trainee, how to handle it and how to even dish it out. Even with all his size, all his strength, and all his fighting experience, he was nearing his limits. Doctor Catherine Halsey, architect of the SPARTAN II Program and a mother figure of sorts to the super-soldiers, once told him how time won every battle; no matter how strong a military force, no matter how well fortified a position, no matter how high the moral of an army, time would always chip away until there was nothing left.

Jorge blinked the sweat out of his eyes and took another look of his surroundings. He was forced to stay in a knelt position by a pair of magnetic wrist braces placed on the walls. The room he had been kept in was sterile-white, with a table at the middle of the room, an incredibly bright light directly over the table, two pairs of heavily-armed guards inside and outside the cell, and an energy-barrier keeping Jorge from escaping.

Captain Rookers rubbed his eye in annoyance, and angrily walked over to Jorge until he was a few feet away from his face. "Now, I'm going to ask you again," said Rookers, entirely focused on Jorge. "Why have you come to our planet? Who is your employer?" Jorge remained quiet, only the steady sounds of his breathing from underneath his helmet breaking the silence. "Still not talking, eh? Well, we'll just have to up the dosage."

The Captain nodded to a Guardsman outside the cell, who twisted a dial next to a red button. The Guardsman pressed the button, and an absurd amount of electricity coursed through Jorge's body. At first, the shocks didn't bother Jorge, the shield could take most of it. But after enough jolts through his body, it was starting to take its toll.

The Guardsman took his finger off the button, and Jorge slumped forward, armor smoking. The overzealous Captain lifted Jorge's head so that he they could be eye-to-eye. "Are you going to answer me? Or am I going to have to keep doing this over and over? Because it's starting to get real tiresome."

"What's the point," grumbled Jorge. "I've answered everything you've asked of me, but it's never good enough for you."

The Captain took a guard's blaster and hit Jorge in the throat with the butt end. Jorge gagged for a moment, struggling to breathe, before finally coughing more than making labored inhales.

"You might be able to fool everyone else with your stories of fighting this… _Covenant_. But not me." Rookers took the baster, handled it like it was a baseball bat, and connected with the back of Jorge's head. For a moment, Jorge saw stars. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep this planet safe from those who singlehandedly destroy a portion of this city's finest buildings. From those put several of my best clones in the bacta tanks, and put several more in body bags!"

Rookers brought the weapon down like an ax and broke it in half over Jorge's back. "I've sworn to protect Coruscant – protect the Republic – by any means necessary, especially from Separatist-serving scum like yourself! Now, I'm going to ask you again, and I really hope you give me what I want. What was your mission on our planet?"

Jorge remained silent, just trying to control his breathing and regain his vision.

"Trooper," Rookers calmly said to the Guard on the outside. "Turn up the voltage."

Jorge could hear the high-pitched whine of rising energy, and braced himself for the worst.

* * *

Watching from behind the one-way wall was Bardo, along with the Padawan Ahsoka Tano, as his superior officer brutally extracted the information from the stranger. Given the dangerous nature of this thing, it was placed on round-the-clock observation by a fully-armed squad of Coruscant Guards.

Bardo winced when he saw the sparks fly from the restraints, hearing the beast shout in pain as the electricity courses through its body. The young clone didn't always agree with the Captain's methods of interrogation, but he was too afraid to speak up to his superior officer, lest he face the same wrath saved for those brought here. He had planned to make a formal complaint to the brass, but he could never find the time.

For now, he just had to stand and watch as the prisoner was mercilessly tortured.

"Has it said anything yet," asked Ahsoka, rubbing the crust out of her eyes after taking a long nap.

"Nothing new, no. It stopped talking a few cycles ago, ma'am."

"Hmm, interesting." The young Togrutian leaned closer to the window and keenly observed as Rookers continued his interrogation tactics. "I'm surprised it's taken this long for a confession."

"While Captain Rookers is the best interrogation officer in the department," Bardo stopped himself, and remembered his place in the unit. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It's not my place."

"Relax, trooper. You can speak freely with me in here."

"Well, I don't agree with his methods. They work, sure, but it isn't the way I was taught. And I don't believe we need to sacrifice what we've been taught for the sake of results." Bardo winced again when he saw the flashes of electricity coming from the interrogation room.

"Well, while I'm not one to agree with the Captain's methods either, I see a use for them. In a time of war, you can't always go by the books. In certain circumstances, the results matter more than protocol."

"But this isn't war, ma'am. This is our home, far away from the Separatists."

"More protests and activists are rising with every passing day." Ahsoka was now leaning against the one-way mirror-wall with her arms crossed. "Do you expect me to believe you would go against the Republic and everything it stands for just because you don't like where it's heading?"

"Certainly not, ma'am. I would never go against the Republic. I'm just voicing my disagreements with the Captain's technique is all."

The room returned to silence as Ahsoka turned her attention back to the interrogation. She was still amazed that something like the armored titan currently being electrocuted by a highly respected, if not overzealous, Captain could stand toe-to-toe with her in single combat. For an object of that size – she was only as tall as its knee – it was surprisingly fast. _Unnaturally_ fast.

If this thing were a droid, it's one she hoped to never see again in the near future. It was startling how much it mimicked living movement, and the amount of agility it possessed was unlike anything she had ever seen in anything artificial before.

_What was this thing_, the young Padawan thought. It sounded an awful lot like a living organism, but not many living things could move that fast and hit with that kind of force. If this were a non-artificial organism, it had to have been severely modified and experimented on.

The door hissed behind the two, and they turned to greet the new observants.

First was Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Following the Stejwon Jedi was Naboo Senator Padmé Amidala, wearing a bacta tube around her injured forearm. The diminutive Yoda, wisest of the Jedi, entered the observation room last.

Bardo and Ahsoka bowed to the newest members of the observation room. "Master Kenobi, Master Yoda," said Tano. "Senator Amidala, it's pleasing to see you. Especially you, madam Senator; I'm surprised to see you out of the Med-Center so quickly."

"I wasn't going to let a little scrape get in the way of my responsibilities, Ahsoka. Besides, I believe I could provide some insight into the situation inside the Senate."

"So, what do we have here, Padawan," asked Kenobi.

"Excuse me, Master Kenobi," said Bardo stepping forward. "I originally briefed Padawan Tano on the events when she first arrived at the Senate Building. I believe it's only fair that

"Of course, trooper," said Yoda. "Explain, you would?"

"Yes, Master Yoda. We were dispatched to the Senate Building following the crash of the unidentified ship. The intruder exited the ship and was immediately surrounded. It was ordered to stand down, so when it refused, we were forced to open fire. I don't know how, but it was able to evade the majority of our blaster shots, and every shot taken by the LAAT gunships. We managed a few hits, but there were no signs of physical damage

"Assault? On a Senator?"

"Please, Master Kenobi," interrupted the Senator. "I believe I can explain that. I was just leaving the Senate Building to my personal quarters when the stranger burst through the door, throwing me to the ground and severely injuring my arm." She held up her forearm, showing everyone her injury. "Stranger, though, was that it took the time to stop and treat my injury. It reset the bone, applied a foam-like pain reliever, and bandaged my arm."

"Yes, I've read Master Plo Koon's report," said Kenobi, pacing back and forth. "What I still don't understand is _why_. Why would this aggressor stop and treat your wounds, especially after laying waste to the troopers just outside the Senate Building?"

"Perhaps not the monster, we claim it is," added Yoda. "Interview it, we should. Responding to the Captain's methods, it is not." Grand Master Yoda pointed to the stranger in the armor being electrocuted by the Coruscant Guard Captain.

It was kept in a knelt position by the large anti-gravity restraints, which also doubled as a torture method for the more dangerous – and less cooperative – criminals.

As Obi-Wan was about to object to the treatment of the prisoner, Senator Amidala briskly exited the observation room and headed straight for where the detainee was being kept, with both Jedi quickly following her.

* * *

The machine stopped, leaving Jorge's armor a smoking mess. The shields gave out much quicker this time, and the jolts of electricity were much more powerful than before. Jorge could still feel small bits of electricity jolting him while the Captain stood over him with a sadistic smile.

"Now, are you willing to cooperate? Or would you like to go through this again?"

Before Jorge could answer, the energy barrier separating this room from the outside vanished, and the Captain stepped outside. There was a lot of shouting and finger pointing in his direction. The Captain then backed away and allowed three new people entrance into the dark room.

Despite his blurred vision, Jorge could tell two of them were human, one male and the other female, while the third was a very small, green figure. At this point, as long as they weren't there to inflict any pain on him, Jorge didn't care what they looked like.

The two humans sat down at the table in the middle of the room, while the green one decided to stand.

Jorge suddenly heard the sounds of power deactivating, and he could feel the magnetic braces holding his arms up release. The SPARTAN collapsed onto the ground, smoke still rising from his armor. The trio at the table remained silent as the hulking super-soldier regained his senses and attempted to stand.

"We sincerely apologize for the way Captain Rookers treated you," said the man to the left. "He's very… _overzealous_ when it comes to extracting information."

Unlike that psychopath Rookers, this man seemed more calm. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with sandy-brown hair and a matching beard, and was clothed in armor similar to that worn by the troopers guarding the outside and inside of his cell, except that he was also wearing a light-colored robe.

Jorge, however, remained silent. He didn't know if they were biding their time before exploiting a weakness of his, or if they were truly trying to present themselves as more benevolent.

"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves first," said the same man. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Jedi High Council. To my left is Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo. And on the very end is Master Yoda, Grand Master of the Jedi. We would like to have a short discussion with you, if that is alright."

Jorge nodded his head.

Jorge recognized the woman in the middle, this Padmé Amidala, as the woman he seriously wounded in the ornate building earlier. Rather than look angered at seeing him again, the woman instead looked rather calm and collected. "Might I ask you your name, stranger," asked Amidala.

"Jorge, SPARTAN zero-five-two. Chief Warrant Officer in the United Nations Space Command. Designation Noble Five of SPARTAN Noble Team."

"That's quite a mouthful, Jorge," said Kenobi. "But I'm afraid that we have no record of this… United Nations Space Command. Or a race of people known as Spartans."

Jorge chuckled. "SPARTANs aren't a race, sir."

Jorge reached for his helmet when the troopers in the room raised their weapons the SPARTAN, forcing Jorge to stop. The one known as Yoda raised his fist, and the soldiers slowly lowered their blasters. "Forgive them. Anxious, they are. Please, continue."

Jorge took a deep breath, placed his hands on the sides of his helmet, and removed it. There was a _hiss_ as the pressurization was released, and Jorge raised the helmet off his head, and placed it on the table with a _thud_.

While Kenobi and Yoda's faces remained stoic, the senator's jaw was slightly agape as she saw that Jorge was as human as they were. His close-cropped dark-brown hair and matching facial hair stood out amongst the sterile-white walls of the room, with his hazel eyes quickly adjusting to the new light hitting them.

"You're… you're human," said an astounded Amidala.

"Yes, ma'am. As I said, we're not a race; we're still human. Just a little more… _enhanced_."

"How so?"

"Well, it's hard to explain." Jorge thought back to his days as a child on Reach with the rest of the SPARTAN trainees.

"Relax, and take your time," said Kenobi, pulling his chair closer. "We have all the time in the world."

Jorge proceeded to tell the trio everything he could about the SPARTAN Program; its reason for existence, Dr. Halsey, his training, his biochemical augmentation procedures, how nearly half of his class either died or were too deformed from the augmentations to continue active service, what they became and how they were used, the introduction of the MJOLNIR armor, the success of the Program against the Insurrection… then the arrival of the Covenant, the mass extinction of the human race, the invasion of Reach, and his participation in Operation: UPPER CUT that sent him here.

As Jorge gave a brief history of his service in the UNSC, the three individuals sitting before him were silent throughout, hanging on every word of this stranger. By the time he had finished explaining everything he could, the two humans were on the edges of their seats, while Yoda continued to quietly and attentively listen.

"That's… quite the tale of your military career," said Obi-Wan, his gaze not breaking from the SPARTAN. "It's given us plenty to consider. And we'll do everything in our power to have you released, but for the time being, you'll have to remain here."

"Understood, sir. Thank you." Jorge watched as Kenobi and Yoda quickly left the room while the politician brought up the rear. Jorge went to retrieve his Mark IV Grenadier helmet, but noticed the senator lingered in the doorway. "Ma'am?"

"I just wanted to thank you, for treating my injury. It was how I knew you were not the aggressor you were made out to be."

"I was only doing what I thought was right, ma'am. I'm sure you would've done the same if you were in my position."

"Indeed." Padmé watched as Jorge placed his helmet over his head with a _snap-click_, until the orange-red visor covered his face. "Does it ever get uncomfortable in there, having to wear that all the time?"

"When you've worn this armor for as long as I have, you eventually forget you're even wearing it."

"I see. Thank you, and hopefully by the next day you won't be imprisoned here anymore." She bowed, and left the interrogation room.

* * *

Masters Kenobi and Yoda walked side-by-side as they left for the observation room. Kenobi was holding up a holo-vid from outside the Senate Building. It showed Jorge masterfully dodge the blasts from the dropships, run through the squad of clones guarding the entrance, and barreling through the Grand Door. The holographic display looped back to the beginning of the video.

"I must say, Master Yoda, it's quite unbelievable that someone could have just appeared above our world out of quite possibly another galaxy."

"Hmm, indeed. While highly improbable it is, unbelievable it is not."

"And just how can you be so convinced of that, Master Yoda?"

"Looked into his eyes I have, and seen the pain behind them. The pain of seeing friends and family fall before him, the pain of being so helpless to stop worlds from burning, the pain of not knowing whether the world you sacrificed yourself to save is still standing. One does not lie about hardships such as those." Master Yoda stopped and looked back into the room, just as the Senator was leaving, and saw Jorge sit by the wall. "Help him return to his people, we must."

"_Can _we even help him?"

"Meditate and search for answers to this, I will."

* * *

**A/N: I've been thinking this over lately, and I've been wanting to write this less and less. I didn't really think anything past the first couple chapters on what would happen to our boy Jorge, and I don't want to put out a mediocre product just to get views. **

**It's nothing to do with the readers (hell, you guys are what keep me going), it's just that I have another story going on over at the IGN NCAA Football boards that I've been writing for the past two years (seriously, go give it a read [it's the story written by kap4334]), and now I have a strong desire to do another Halo-related crossover (with ****_Bioshock Infinite_****). Plus, with I have a new job I'm starting on Monday, I don't think I'll have time to do all three.**

**Therefore, I'm putting this story up for adoption. If I can figure out a way to transfer this to someone who really wants to write it, I'll do it. So send me a PM, I'll take a look at your work (if you have any), and I'll figure out who to give this to.**


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